


Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

by problematic_pleasures



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Post Movie, Short Refractory Period, fantasies, porn without plot/plot what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 06:49:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematic_pleasures/pseuds/problematic_pleasures
Summary: It's just puberty,he thinks.





	Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

**Author's Note:**

> yes, yes, going to hell, da da da, usually hooplah. i just had this thought of miles, after everything, having some _feelings_ about peter b. parker. so this happened! 
> 
> don't like, don't read, blah blah blah.
> 
> enjoy!

_It’s just puberty_ , he thinks.

His roommate is gone, his phone is on silent, and his homework is finished. He’s got all the time in the world… or, at least, until about ten-thirty, when Ganke should be back from his date-slash-study group. Miles shifts under the covers, wriggling his boxers down his thighs until they’re bunched at his ankles. Tentatively, he draws his tee up and lays a hand high on his stomach, fingers twitching in anticipation.

Miles lets out a shaky breath, then lets his hand glide across his stomach. His fingertips brush over the dustings of hair just under his belly button until he hits the wet tip of his dick. He swallows.

_It’s just puberty_ , he thinks again as he curls a hand around his shaft. Immediately, sparks of pleasure race up his spine; his hips jump to meet his hand and Miles bites his bottom lip on a moan. His eyes flutter shut and he tells himself, one last time, _it’s just puberty_.

He moans again as images start to flicker behind his eyelids. They’re all shaky and vague, uncertain. Some of them are in uncle Aaron’s apartment, and Miles ignores the twang of sadness that accompanies those fantasies. Some of them are right here in his dorm room, or in his bed at home, or even on some abandoned rooftop in Brooklyn. They come at him quickly and disappear just as fast. There’s no time for him to make sense of each fantasy but he’s still so turned on it hurts.

Miles presses his tongue against the back of his front teeth and lets out his next whine as a hiss. The dorms aren’t exactly soundproof, and even if most people are probably out-and-about, Miles would rather be safe than sorry.

He tilts his head back and presses his cheek against his pillow as familiar tension coils low in his stomach. It happens so fast, so easily, his face flushes with embarrassment. And just like that, a whole scene is coming to life in his head:

 

_“Happens to the best of us,”_ _Peter says with just a faint hint of a snicker. He’s working his big, calloused hand over Miles’ cock. Miles is holding onto Peter’s broad yet bony shoulders for dear life as his orgasm mounts._

_“It’s totally natural,” Peter continues. His words are soft and wet against Miles’ cheek, against his lips, then Peter’s kissing him. Miles whines against Peter’s lips and then opens his mouth; he’s never kissed like this before, and he has no idea what he’s doing. Peter’s a better teacher when it comes to kissing than superhero-ing._

_Peter licks into his mouth, all wet and thick. The sensations are strange and send shivers down Miles’ spine. Peter’s_ tongue _is in his mouth, against his own, tracing the shapes of his teeth._

 

—in the real world, Miles pants, mouth wide open, tongue flicking to lick his lips as if he could actually taste Peter—

 

_Peter groans into the kiss and then Miles can feel him, the older man’s erection pressed hard against Miles’ hip. Peter ruts against him clumsily and his hand around Miles’ cock falters for a second before returning to its steady, maddening pace._

_Peter thumbs over the head and a quick glance down reveals a bead of precome from the tip of Miles’ dick smearing over Peter’s finger. Miles moans softly and Peter kisses the corner of his mouth._

_“Doing so good, Miles.”_

_Miles can’t help his next sound, a reedy and high and desperate thing. He can feel Peter smirking against his cheek and he wants to tease and taunt back but all he can do is dig his nails into Peter’s shoulders. He squirms under Peter’s bigger body and finally hitches a leg over Peter’s hip._

_“Will you,” Miles starts to gasp, “will you…?” He can’t get the words out, not even inside his own head._

_Peter’s laugh is breathy and gentle. “Not tonight.” He tightens his hand carefully around Miles’ cock. “You’re not ready for that, yet.”_

_“I can take it!” Miles gasps as his orgasm hits him._

 

—Miles’ back arches and his whole body goes tense as he comes, white spurting on his hand and his stomach. He gasps for air as he goes lax on his bed; his toes tingle and he curls them in his sheets.

He wipes his hand on his stomach, smearing the come around, and tries to level out his breathing. His satisfaction and relief are bone-deep, settling in his like the sea after the storm.

_Jesus, I’ve been taking AP Lit a little too serious lately,_ Miles thinks to himself with a laugh. He doesn’t move for a tissue quite yet, partially because his cock has returned to half-hard, as it often does.

Miles looks down at his crotch and teases his fingers along the base, watching as his dick returns to full hardness with almost alarming quickness. Truth be told, he’s not certain how much of his refractory time (or the way he’s been feeling lately) is _actually_ puberty, or a side effect of being bitten…

He could always ask Peter about it.

Miles curls his hand around his cock again and holds it, steadies his breathing. his eyes flutter shut once more. He bites his lip until it aches and starts to stroke himself slowly this time, savoring it.

 

_The rough feeling of a Brooklyn rooftop against his back—  
_

_—Peter’s brown hair hanging down, brushing Miles’ face as the other man thrusts into him—_

_—Miles on his knees, the gravel in a Queens back-alley digging into his skin as Peter holds him by the back of the head and feeds him his cock one inch at a time—_

_—Peter yanking down his uniform pants just far enough to expose his cock and doing the same to expose Miles’ hole, prepped and ready—_

 

Miles moans loud enough that someone, somewhere down the hall, bangs a fist against the wall. He hardly pays it any mind—he’ll have to be embarrassed about it later—because he comes a second time. His cock pulses and there’s not as much come but the room is definitely starting to smell like sex and sweat.

It’s as he’s wiping off his hand and stomach with a tissue that a thought occurs to him: _Peter and Mary-Jane probably had sex. They_ had _to have._

Miles’ cock twitches and, softly, he groans.

_It’s just puberty_ , he tells himself.

_That’s all._


End file.
